


Knelt

by epochryphal



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Domestic Kink, Kink Negotiation, Kneeling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epochryphal/pseuds/epochryphal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hands rest with fingers spread loose on his thighs just above bent knees, and they are particularly informative in the minute twitches and tightenings they make even when you are doing nothing at all.  Which is, ostensibly, the entire parameter set for this curious scene: for you to be working, inattentive and occupied, ignoring him entirely.</p><p>/// Endangered!AU, AR perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knelt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mortior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortior/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Endangered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797568) by [Mortior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortior/pseuds/Mortior). 



> so i was seriously just trying to describe this physical layout to an artist friend whennn writing happened

Dirk sits at your feet, quiet and still.  Heart rate elevated, localized temperature spikes in facial tissue and body core.  The circulation in his legs needs monitoring, given the way they are folded under him in the not-quite-kneeling affectation he has adopted instead of his usual cross-legged or other more comfortable position, but it is acceptable at present.  He is turned marginally less than ninety degrees away from you, a deferential posture that leaves his field of vision primed to detect any movement from you while clearly communicating an intent to avoid staring.  Despite the contained nature of this position, it is an optimal expression of availability.  Fascinating how he generated it without exposure to its historical context or existence.

His back is straight, unusually so, indicative of heightened attention to physicality and environment.  His shoulders, however, are not squared in the ascetic fashion but rather folded slightly in and up, an angle you calculate to several decimal points and mark as having especial aesthetic value.  His chin tilts slightly down, demurred, eyes focused on an unremarkable spot on the floor a foot in front of him.  The way his lips are parted provides multiple suggestions as to his present train of thought.

His hands rest with fingers spread loose on his thighs just above bent knees, and they are particularly informative in the minute twitches and tightenings they make even when you are doing nothing at all.  Which is, ostensibly, the entire parameter set for this curious scene: for you to be working, inattentive and occupied, and be kept silent company as you attend to matters of global significance.

You had initially rejected this proposal, a mixture of amusement and fond annoyance in your circuits as you prepared to once again expound on your capacity for multitasking and soothe his needless concerns about monopolizing your attention.  The look on his face had stopped you immediately: his expression both unfamiliar and far too recognizable at once, the kind of crestfallen your inhibited past self had unforgivably failed to properly respond to.

And so you are here, acceded to the stuttering wishes you’d drawn out of him as gently as you wish you’d always been, seated on the edge of his bed while he remains on the cold floor.  You have his laptop beside you, connected through your hardware interface, and are turned toward it as if you needed vision to work.  The room is quiet save for Dirk’s steady breathing and the low hum you produce, a concession to simulate focused productive activity in place of keyboard tapping.  It is peaceful in a way you had not anticipated; quite unlike the physical intimacy of post-coital reclining, yet undeniably a form of pair bonding and companionship.

Of course, there is also the sizeable matter of the charged energy hanging latent in the air around those bent shoulders.

It is intriguing, really, this manifestation of yearning and arousal.  This pretension that you are not fully aware of Dirk’s every breath, that there is anything more important or demanding of your attention.  That you would not be touching him this very moment had he not asked for this.

Admittedly, the primary function of touching him is to produce results such as he is displaying now.  The careful rhythm in which his chest rises and falls, signaling he is measuring and pacing his own oxygen intake; the at once focused and unseeing gaze as he refrains from even glancing at you, as though it would be an interruption and improper; the subtle tensing and subsequent relaxing of a finger as something flickers through his mind.  All of these things, you are doing to him, by sheer force of pretending to ignore him.

It is adequately satisfying.

Later, you will disrupt his carefully composed calm, test the hitches in his breathing when you simply redistribute your weight, sample the voiceless noises he makes at a single minor tentacle idling into his vision.  You will not look away from the pointless digital screen before you as his eyes dart towards you and away, nor will your bland lack of expression change when his hands shift slowly inward.  You will let him palm the crease in his thighs as your lone claw drifts aimlessly within his perimeter, its joints slowly alternating between expanding and contracting, never quite clacking closed.  Your hum will not waver a decibel when he starts to shake, knees tipping apart, pulse erratic beneath the conduit of your collar.  But oh, you will allow yourself a small smile, when his head tips back at the winding advance of your appendage toward his throat, when he arches his upper body forward as the claw recedes a half-inch, when he spills to its pointed tip brushing beneath his chin.  And you will gather him in your arms before he can fall, whispering praises and fondness, how still he was and how good and how very good you’d like to make him feel now, and he will cling to you and babble and thrash as you demonstrate just how much value your attention holds.

Later still, the two of you will whisper about central rooms and warmer floors and public risks, doors and locks and decisions not to, infinite cables and international communications and true multitasking.

For now, you listen to the quiet breathing from the floor, and allow your hum to deepen.

**Author's Note:**

> humorous sequel: please consider john being the one to walk into the control room, pause, and then say "hey man, do you want me to get you a chair?"


End file.
